Rising Tide
by Dragonrider4000
Summary: Harry had rushed to the ministry to save the one person who had been the promise of a life that would not have been so lonely. Instead, he had lost Sirius. Now, something far greater threatens to make sure Harry never feels alone again. Only one thing is certain, and that is the wizarding world may never be the same again.
1. Chapter 1

So I have some people who've seen me ghost on this site in awhile and I return with a story that's in an entirely different realm to my old ones. In my defense, this idea has haunted me for awhile. This is just my take on a theme.

Author note: Definitely do not own anything to do with Harry Potter at all. This is me just having my silly ways with it.

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Chapter One

Possession. To say it hurt would be an understatement. Harry had been cored from the inside and all that was left was fire. A fire that burnt through him and twisted about him in a snakelike vice that used his mouth as his own.

" _If Death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy."_

Through the pain Harry could barely focus on the words, but he agreed with them. Death could be nothing compared to this. Let it kill him, us. Anything. At least then he'd be with Sirius and any will to survive this drained away along with his life. Yet the end he so desired didn't come.

Something stirred in the depths of his being. Something dangerous and angry; filled with a will of its own. A will that screamed for life and wrapped about the intruder. Yet matched it at the same time. Harry caught between them like a boat in a storm and left to drown in the power that fought over him. A force so blinding he could barely think even as the pain settled into an unnatural calm.

It was a calm he had never felt before. Not at his time at Hogwarts filled with adventure, mistrusting friends and danger. Certainly not at the Dursleys. It was a new form of drowning, but he took it gladly. Ages could have past before he felt the grass beneath his fingers, even though it could only have been seconds.

Shock pulled him from that calm and his eyes flew open into the brilliant light of a blue sky without a single cloud. Harry almost relaxed again but the black robe that caught his eye had him scrambling up to stare at the figures at the cliff edge. It was a figure he'd have known in the dark, he'd dreamt of it enough. Voldemort. Even if now there were two of his enemy watching the storm that raged around their small island.

"We have both been played."

"Expertly too."

"Well he always was one for the dramatic."

"No doubt he liked the theatrics of the plan."

"He'd even been prepared to sacrifice him."

"That I didn't expect Dumbledore to have in him."

"They will need to be moved though."

"Of course."

The two before him talked as if Harry's presence was inconsequential to him, them. Harry found himself baffled with the language he needed for this… let alone being here, alone, wandless. As if sensing his thoughts both Voldemort's turned to raise equal brows at him in cold amusement before turning back to the view out over a sea that still boiled with storm.

"Well Harry, nothing to say?" the one on the left asked, and Harry frowned as the other gave a small sound of amusement. He'd never call it a laugh.

"You seemed to be getting on well enough by yourself." Harry managed, applauding his Gryffindor bravery keeping his words steady.

"Yes, well if you want a sensible conversation it's possibly for the best, but I've done all the monologuing I intend to now," the same Voldemort scoffed as he continued, and both turned to face him. "Tell me Harry, how much do you want to be in this war?"

It was a question he hadn't expected, and Harry felt his mouth hang open in shock at this. Only to frown at the sound of derision from the other Voldemort who seemed content to watch so far.

"You put me into this war, I didn't really get a choice." Harry retorted and the image of Sirius flashed hot through his mind. "You also just took someone from me that gives me a lot to fight for."

"Yes, your godfather, an unfortunate situation that," Voldemort said in a tone that held little emotion, "But while I cannot change the past. I will enforce your future. I'm taking you out of the war Harry, and everyone you care about. Unless they choose to fight me of course. I'm not an idiot."

"What?"

"I'm sure you heard me," the Voldemort that continued to be spokesman commented taking a few steps towards Harry while the other gave a long-suffering sigh. "I no longer desire your death, in fact your life has suddenly become rather important to me."

Words kept failing Harry. Caught between indignation, confusion and a shiver of relief he tried not to notice. His mouth opening and closing a little as he searched for something to say.

"I'm inhabiting a goldfish."

"Hush now," Voldemort murmured to the figure behind him, but the damage was done.

"What do you mean inhabiting?" Harry asked, and his words were slow despite his racing thoughts.

"You may as well tell him what I am." That other figure of Voldemort said, drawing closer with every word. It put Harry in mind of a tiger he'd seen at the zoo so many years ago. "and _where_ I am."

"We don't have time for that," Voldemort hissed, gesturing sharply to the storm behind them. If the situation hadn't been so dire Harry would have laughed. Voldemort could be annoyed even by himself. He also seemed invulnerable to his own ire as that other Voldemort stalked closer and gripped Harry's chin to stop the teenager from stepping away to a pretend level of safety.

"What he's refusing to tell you is that you will truly never be able to escape me," The words washed over Harry with the same confusion as why Voldemort touching him didn't hurt any more. "I've been hiding inside you for years, albeit more unremarkable than now, but now I'm finally what I was meant to be. A piece of a greater whole that gives us all immortality. And while you wouldn't be my first choice as a host, it does seem oddly fitting."

"Dumbledore will find a way to get you out." Harry spat, and he tried to pull that hand away but stilled as the face all too close before him laughed.

"Oh, but he has. Do you think he doesn't know? Dear Harry, he expected you to die."

"And why should I believe you?"

Harry had expected Voldemort to at least show a flicker of frustration at his continued resistance, but the one that gripped his chin just continued to smile in a way that chilled Harry to the core. The calm of the land about that slowly disintegrating as the storm rushed closer.

"You don't, the headmaster will do it himself soon no doubt."

"I don't –"

"Don't believe me," Voldemort sighed from the side-lines as he watched his Horcrux and Harry argue, "And I wouldn't expect you to either. Though before I go, I must thank you, Harry. Today has been a rather good day."

Voldemort turned and walked into the storm before Harry could find any retort. Then the storm consumed Harry and stole his breath, his sight and flung him from the ground.

The floor of the ministry atrium was a brutally cold awakening after the grass. One pained hand reached for his glasses to force them back onto his nose. The voices of people too many people unimportant beyond getting off the cold floor. His heart nearly stopped as he came face to face with Dumbledore as he tried to rise.

"Are you alright Harry?"

"Yes," said Harry, shaking so violently he could not hold his head up properly. "Yeah, I'm- where's Voldemort, where- who are all these – what's-"

" _Goldfish."_

The word cut through his mind and Harry felt silent from the shock of it, letting Dumbledore pull him to his feet. Barely focusing on the rest of what was said as the Minister and Dumbledore did their usual arguing; instead staring at the apparition of Voldemort that seemed to be watching Fudge and the Headmaster argue with growing amusement.

He needed to tell Dumbledore what was happening, had to. The words forming on his lips as Dumbledore handed him that portkey. Yet they died as that spectre of Voldemort raised a finger to his lips. Then the portkey activated, and he lost his chance.

Harry's knees almost buckled as he landed, dropping the statue's head to the floor. Barely noticing that he was in the miraculously repaired headmaster's office. His feet taking him mindlessly forward to the window as fear warred with his grief. Sirius was gone and that was his fault, his friends being in danger had been his fault, and not telling Dumbledore about what Voldemort had said, was his fault.

Harry's hand rose to the glass of the window as he stared out at the pale light of the dawn that coloured the horizon. His own face turning as pale as a form he had hoped had not been real came in to view behind him in the glass.

"Yes, Harry I'm quite real," that spectre of Voldemort that used him as a host murmured softly. If it hadn't been Voldemort Harry would almost have thought the tone sounded soothing. From the man behind him it felt anything but, yet as those hands rose to rest on his shoulders that same peace from the cliff returned. "And if I have my way there will never be another day like today again."

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Drop me a review and tell me if you want to see more.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Some sections taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix but will be increasingly AU from this chapter onwards. There was so much merger here it was difficult to parse through, but I hope it makes sense to all you lovely people. I very much tried to keep it at a minimum, but we all know this scene was a pivotal one. It's all of course owned by the wonderful J.K Rowling.

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Chapter 2

"Yes, Harry I'm quite real," that spectre of Voldemort that used him as a host murmured softly. If it hadn't been Voldemort Harry would almost have thought the tone sounded soothing. From the man behind him it felt anything but, yet as those hands rose to rest on his shoulders that same peace from the cliff returned. "And if I have my way there will never be another day like today again."

…

Harry forced his gaze away from the red eyes watching him in the glass and debated a run for the door, perhaps even out of the window. The urge to run built and he felt his heart race beneath the unnatural calm of so unwanted hands upon his shoulders.

"You really think the headmaster would let you leave after he went through all the trouble of separating you from your friends?"

Harry's gaze snapped back to the red eyes above his own that had one brow raised in question. With no desire to answer, or even look at those red eyes a moment longer, he wrenched out of the hold and stormed towards the desk to sink into a chair. Anger slowly filling him, and it was such a welcome feeling compared to that calm which felt so insidious, and that grief. That gnawing grief.

His eyes narrowed further as that shadowy form moved to begin surveying all the odd trinkets Dumbledore so liked to have around like he was in some form of museum. The corner of that robe an ever-present horror on the edge of Harry's vision. His fingers ground into the arms of the chair and his anger roared back to the surface.

"I hate you," Harry felt the words more than he spoke them. Spitting them out with all the violence he wanted to act against Voldemort who had brought him into this war and now was throwing him out of it. Behind him Harry heard the portraits stir to life, but he ignored them, none of them mattered right now, only the red-eyed creature of his nightmares who now sat so casually next to him at the desk.

"I'm sure you do Harry," Voldemort nodded. It galled Harry to the point he was nearly sick that Voldemort was being so calm about this all. This understanding Voldemort threatened to keep derailing Harry's mind, but he focused on the rage. Without that touch it was easier to feel what felt right. He didn't want that calm, didn't deserve it and didn't want it given by the hands that had killed his parents. Then Voldemort dropped a thought that sat like leadened ice inside Harry's chest, "Have you ever truly wondered why I came after your parents so doggedly, came after _you_ , a mere baby? Before your mother's love rebounded that curse upon me and caused all this I never acted without reason. Don't you want to know what that reason is? All you have to do is ask."

The words crept beneath his skin and Harry almost felt himself leaning forward to ask, the words poised just behind his teeth. Then Dumbledore saved him from having to answer with a burst of brilliant green from the fireplace as he arrived. Harry sagged with relief in the chair as it gave him something else to think about, eyes fixed on the headmaster as he moved to place a bedraggled Fawkes on his tray beneath his post. He tried to think of his own greeting for the man who had saved his life tonight, but Harry couldn't find the words past the questions he suddenly had.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, finally turning away from the baby bird, "you will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from the night's events."

Harry opened his mouth to form a reply, but nothing came out and he satisfied himself with a small nod as his gaze dropped to the carpet. The headmaster's words had brought his grief crashing down upon him and it crushed him. It seemed to him that Dumbledore was simply reminding him of the amount of damage he had caused, and although Dumbledore was for once looking at him directly, and although his expression was kindly now rather than accusatory, Harry could not bear to meet his eyes.

"I know how you're feeling Harry," Dumbledore began but paused as Harry sucked in an angry breath.

Harry's words continued to stick in his mouth though, it was hard to think of them with Dumbledore and Voldemort both staring at him. He wanted to scream, shout, even break things as his anger rose to beat loud in his ears. How could Dumbledore possibly know?

"There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry," said Dumbledore's voice, "On the contrary the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."

"My greatest strength is it?" Harry said, voice shaking as he rose from the chair to pace back and forth before the tables of silver instruments. Needing to move lest the anger that licked through him consumed him. Coming to a sudden stop as he looked to where Voldemort sat in that other chair watching him with apparent calm. Harry knew he had to make Dumbledore aware, even through his grief and anger, this was most important. "You haven't got a clue… you don't know…"

The words clogged in his throat. They wouldn't form and the more he tried the more his throat closed. Before him Voldemort shook his head just slightly and Harry felt his anger at Dumbledore die. It was clear that it would be impossible for him to tell Dumbledore, he was trapped with his following spectre for now. There was still so much more at stake and he slunk back to the chair even while Phineas Black gave his usual useless diatribe in the background. Harry couldn't hear him or Dumbledore through it all. All too aware of just how much he was being watched. He needed to get out of here before Dumbledore told his enemy everything.

"Harry… what don't I know?" Dumbledore said, and Harry had the feeling that the headmaster had needed to repeat himself.

"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right. Let me go."

"After I have had my say, Harry," Dumbledore sighed, and there was an edge there like the headmaster was treating him like Harry was about to explode and destroy his office. It was tempting, but those red eyes on him, no, Harry wasn't about to give the bastard the pleasure.

"I just want to go, sir."

"Once I've had my say Harry," Dumbledore said clearly, "This evening, after all, is my fault. I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me and with me alone."

Harry ignored the conversation between Dumbledore and Phineas that followed. Instead, daring a glance to Voldemort who was staring with evident anger at the Headmaster. Yet it didn't hurt Harry, he was aware of the anger yet still there was no pain. He forced his gaze back to the carpet as he regained Dumbledore's attention, managing neutral responses about his scar and all the things he already knew. All the while wishing Dumbledore would just shut up. Voldemort was surely listening to every word, and if this version that followed him was the only one paying attention, surely, he had a way to tell the original that was out there.

"You tried to have Snape of all people teach him occlumency?" Voldemort's shocked tone broke Harry out of his reverie. "To keep me out? Honestly, Harry if you were taught anything about occlumency in those lessons I'll be highly surprised."

"Yeah, I wondered that." Harry mumbled, realising as he spoke that it was more in reply to Voldemort's shock than to Dumbledore's ramblings.

"You see, Dumbledore continued, "I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realised that our relationship was – or had ever been – closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me-"

"Arrogant fool." Voldemort scoffed as Dumbledore continued.

"I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes…"

"He means me, the bearded buffoon." Voldemort sighed from the chair, "He knows I'm here by the way. Curse scars never work the way he describes he's just sparing you the bad news."

Harry couldn't say much more as Dumbledore continued his ramble on about the failed occlumency lessons and on through the use of Kreacher. Somehow after everything else this evening knowing the house elf had been the final catalyst to this all was fitting. It was a bitter end to it all and he felt more than heard his defences of Sirius, he owed his godfather that much after getting him killed. All given with a background scoff from Voldemort that made it hard for Harry to focus on much at all until Dumbledore finally reached his point.

"All this aside though it is time," Dumbledore said, "for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. I am going to tell you everything."

Harry thought back to Voldemort's words to him in the quiet of the office and he couldn't find argument against them. If he was to know he'd know it all on his terms, Voldemort and Dumbledore be damned.

"Well then sir, what's the real reason Voldemort came after me that night, and why was there a prophecy with my name on it?" Harry surprised himself with how clearly the questions came to him. He forced himself not to glance to Voldemort sat to his side; that he wanted Harry to know these answers as well perhaps had a horrifying hand with him asking them.

"Ah, almost the same question you asked me in first year," Dumbledore sighed, "Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus, my plan to protect you using your mother's sacrifice to make bond of blood to keep you safe for fifteen years had worked. However, well I'm sure you remember the events of first year and you ended up facing Voldemort far sooner than I could ever have expected. You asked me this question too then, and I met with the first flaw of my plan. I had never intended to tell you at eleven, the knowledge would surely be too much at such a young age-"

"He's rambling to distract you Harry. Don't let him sell it to you with his own self-pity." Voldemort said suddenly, startling Harry out of his reverie and he found himself agreeing with Voldemort, this wasn't answering his question.

"Sir, just tell me." Harry interrupted Dumbledore, "I don't want to go through every past year, I don't want to relive every fight and loss after today. I just want to know."

"It would help explain my point though Harry." Dumbledore tried, and in that moment, Harry saw the truth in some of Voldemort's words. He was being played with and his rage threatened to return.

"Headmaster, please."

"As you wish Harry. Just please understand that I had my reasons and protecting you was my utmost goal," Dumbledore took a breath then and began, "Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year he has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return; the knowledge of how to destroy you."

Beside him Voldemort began laughing and it was a sound that sent a shiver down Harry's spine because the game had changed and only, they knew it. Voldemort didn't want to kill him at all now and hearing him laugh at Dumbledore's speech left Harry cold and he hadn't even heard a word of the prophecy yet. The prophecy that had smashed…

"It broke though sir, it smashed tonight in the fight," Harry said, remembering Neville's robe tearing as Harry had reached for him.

"The hall of prophecy stores only records of prophecies and not the prophecy themselves. As it happens, I was the one who overheard the prophecy."

"He continues to lead you around the houses Harry," Voldemort said before he gave a thoughtful sound next to Harry. Harry kept the lid on his annoyance though and waited for Dumbledore to continue. The longer this conversation had continued the more he had wanted to know, especially as it seemed Voldemort knew most of it anyway. This was what had ruled his life and he'd not even known it.

"It was on a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the Hogs head inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave. Then she told me this-"

As he trailed off Dumbledore had approached the Pensieve and pulled a memory from his temple to swirl in the basin below. It was clear he had little desire to share its contents with Harry yet still he persisted. It was hard to truly dwell on the gravity of the moment though with Voldemort's musings an ever-present commentary.

"He interviewed for a job at Hogwarts in a pub," Voldemort said softly, and there was a note of horror that gave Harry some pleasure. Good, he wasn't the only one hating today.

Any amusement Harry had though died as he watched the figure of Sybill Trelawney rise out of the Pensieve and speak in the harsh, hoarse tones Harry had heard once before:

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

"I had a choice Harry," Voldemort spoke into the silence, "I picked one of the two possibilities I had. We are both half-bloods Harry. I marked you as my equal, and with your scar, I made it permanent."

"So, what does this mean?" Harry asked, flinging the question out to the two people who sought to control his life, and his apparent death. Harry's mind racing straight to the end conclusion of the prophecy. "Does that mean that one of us has got to kill the other one… in the end?"

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, "And the one good fortune in all of this is that Voldemort does not know. Of that and of the power you hold. The prophecy was overheard but not in entirety. He did not know to not come after you without caution and so you survived Harry."

For a long time, no-one spoke. Somewhere, far beyond the office walls, Harry could hear the sound of voices, students heading down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast, perhaps. It seemed impossible that there could be people in the world who still desired food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that Sirius Black was gone for every. Sirius seemed a million miles away already; even if a part of Harry still thought that if he pulled back that veil he'd find Sirius waiting behind it with his laugh like a bark.

There were so many questions Harry had for Dumbledore about this all, but with Voldemort at his side he did not dare. The prophecy had already been shared, but from all Voldemort had made clear tonight… it was worthless. He had left the school, put his friends in danger and Sirius had died for something that was now worth nothing. It was a punch to the gut that left Harry near breathless from the tide of emotions within him.

Harry was up from the chair and halfway down the stairs out into the rest of the school before he was conscious of it all. Fleeing through the corridors for anything, anywhere to take his mind from the horror of it all as his grief welled up behind him and threatened to drown him whole. All the while his steps dogged by Voldemort as an ever-present shadow out across the school grounds and towards the lake.


End file.
